2021.10.18 21:31 Nayther Best mousepad for hybrid usage ?
Hello ! I’m looking for a good mousepad for both bureautic and gaming, i’m mainly play League and i do design for school, i don’t like hard ones ans i don’t really have any size preference. My price range is not more than 60€, thanks you so much for your help !
submitted by Nayther to MousepadReview [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 21:31 MilkMeUpDaddy Help! Urgent! whether you can solve it or simply know what cipher I should use any help is appreciated
2021.10.18 21:31 Noobkaka So. Do we have any math for energy blades?
It turns your weapon(s) into swords, so spec into sword passives for more damage?
Also, whadda we do? Go full "% of max life gained as extra ES" ?
Split stack Stint? We need life? Can't go full ES, whaddya gona do with only 600ES and no life?
submitted by Noobkaka to pathofexile [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 21:31 howthetableshave Katie attended a wedding where "SO many people were sick," proceeded to get sick herself. Are super spreader events considered spicy?
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2021.10.18 21:31 GhettoCowboyNumba1 Dom’s Spaghetti
I have a friend named Dominique and he cooks for everyone in the house (roommates) sometimes. We call him ‘Dom’ for short. He makes spaghetti pretty often. When he states he’s going to be cooking spaghetti for dinner, we all sing the lyrics to Eminem’s song Lose Yourself except switch Moms Spaghetti to Doms Spaghetti.
submitted by GhettoCowboyNumba1 to PointlessStories [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 21:31 jorgeeborgee Looking for a critique on a short story (be as brutal as necessary)
They squat the roof one to each shingle. They perch like birds in the black chestnut tree. They peek out at Abigail from the flower beds and between the tall grasses of the unkempt lawn. And they will not go away. Even when she blinks a thousand times or beats herself about the head with her fists until she goes dizzy and her eyes fill up with sparks. They will not leave her be. She might go in the house and draw the curtains. Better yet, go down to the basement where it is stygian black. But then she will feel them move and hear their rattling breath all about her in the dark.
She has tried to describe them to her husband but he wont listen. He does not like to hear her speak about them and, if she insists, all he ever says is, ‘They aren't real.' As if this is a comfort, as if being the only person in the world who can see them makes her feel better and not more afraid. She thinks he doesn't want to comfort her. Just wants her to be the woman he married. More eccentric artist than delusional shut in.
He leaves the house earlier every morning, gets home later every night. He speaks a little less to her every day. He has stopped looking at her when she speaks to him. Gazing instead above her left shoulder or down at the mug of tea he is holding or out the window at nothing. On the weekends, when he cannot run away to work, he spends all his time in his aviary with his tropical birds. She doesn't know what he does in there. Imagines him sitting on a bird spattered plastic lawn chair, in the noise and the guano. Counting the minutes on his watch till he knows she has gone to bed.
She tells herself it would be different if he could see them too. This is the thought that sends her into the garden with a spade. All her creatures gather round to watch as she unearths the blue clay that sits a few feet beneath the lawn. She digs up mounds of the stuff and carries it to the patio, stooped under the weight. She begins to mold it, wetting it with her spit and her urine. She makes a careful study of her monsters. She goes to great effort to make her clay totems as accurate as she can. Carefully renders every claw, every tentacle, every eye, every mouth. It's been years since she worked with clay. The act calms her. Focuses her mind and allows her to observe her terrors with a detachment she'd thought impossible.
She is at her work for many hours before the last figure is complete. She has crafted them in such a frenzy that her naked body is shining with sweat and hot as an oven. So she hugs her creations to her and bakes them with the heat of her body.
Then she goes to her husband's aviary and catches a bird from the air quick as a cat. She holds the delicate thing in her fist, and feels its little heartbeat rattle in her hand. She carries it outside to her models. She brings the bird’s beak to her mouth and sucks the life out of it. Her belly bulges with life. She puts her lips to those of the first creature and breathes it in. The thing splutters and wretches and vomits black blood onto the terracotta tiles.
When her husband returns the first thing he sees are all his tropical birds dead and scattered across the patio. He begins to cry. Then he sees all the monsters from his wife's madness made real.
'What have you done?' he says to Abigail who is sitting sanguine in their grass-woven rocking chair sipping a cup of bitter Russian tea.
‘I have cured myself.' She says whilst gazing at her monsters like an adoring mother.
‘But you have made all your delusions real!’
She smiles at him and says 'Precisely.'
submitted by jorgeeborgee to fantasywriters [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 21:31 Slight-Natural-8274 APIT: Last night at City Park
2021.10.18 21:31 010rusty Ingenious and thought provoking rebuttal against ageist argument [Poetry]
|submitted by 010rusty to youtubehaiku [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 21:31 Lalita_Ava 🤔 fyi.. positive feedback & bug reports are not just complaining about how the game didn't meet your selfish expectations. ..
2021.10.18 21:31 CryptoCurrencyState Solana DEX Exchanges Comparison - Project Review of the 5 DEX AMM Solana Exchanges - Solana Ecosystem
Hi! Here's a review on 5 Solana DEX AMM Exchanges of Solana Ecosystem.
We'll check all the information available of each of these exchanges and compare them to look for the potential gem projects on the Solana Space.
If you're interested in it, watch it here!
submitted by CryptoCurrencyState to Crypto_General [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 21:31 olundmipltd56 Test
2021.10.18 21:31 funktopus Girls humping trees again.
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2021.10.18 21:31 adriansoliz7 [XB1] H: Anything below W: Exp. Gat laser or Cryo
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2021.10.18 21:31 ComplexWorker4757 Er der en korrelation imellem et boomende boligmarked i Danmark, og en implosion I Kina?
Jeg ved godt det er 2 forskellige historier (omend jeg ikke helt kan forstå historien om den det danske boligmarked). Men timingen er jo bemærkelsesværdig.
submitted by ComplexWorker4757 to Denmark [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 21:31 hellomushroom New family members!
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2021.10.18 21:31 MistyGuy67 hah... i get the funny.
|submitted by MistyGuy67 to pokemonmemes [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 21:31 ASM1402 Tutors 😈
2021.10.18 21:31 Bearkat1999 Post format question.
I often see posts where they have pictures in a slideshow of sorts. How do I do that? I can't for the life of me figure it out.
(Sorry if wrong subreddit. I don't know where else to ask this.)
submitted by Bearkat1999 to help [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 21:31 Rocky_Roku What kind of opening do you want season 4 part 2 to have?
Blood pumping hype (Guren No Yumiya, Die Flügel der Freiheit, Sasageyo, whatever we call the one season 3 part 2 had) bittersweet (Red Swan) or a chill inducing mix of both (My War)?
submitted by Rocky_Roku to ShingekiNoKyojin [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 21:31 thevergofkilingmyslf Is this stamp okay to use with this envelope?
|submitted by thevergofkilingmyslf to stamps [link] [comments]|
2021.10.18 21:31 PuzzleheadedMajor847 [POEM] - Steve Gherke “The New Self”.
Are you of or not of brain, matter’s boss or its crevasse, are you the body itself, or more than that, immortal you, crouched in flesh, like a vampire packed into a bat?
Are you housed in me or not? The tenant or the landlord of my skin? Am I your avatar? Are you my East Berlin? Are we an I or each other’s synonym? Last night,
the train I was on dimmed then re-electrified, and I thought again that we are conscious a lot less often than we suppose, that half the time in us you’re half reposed. I was in
South Orange again, city of my former self’s last stand. Do you remember him, your swallowed twin, the child king whom you deposed? Oh, I know: you think you’re the buried light,
the jeweled glow, the sunlight falling through the falling snow. But I’ve seen the uranium laced through your walls: you’re an equation only destruction solves. Who else but you
starts each day with masturbation and ends each night with gin? And so how should I begin? Four years ago, you rose in me like a fin. It started as an overflow,
a drop of go, some royal beast in me, all gasoline and yeast, unhinging its own jaw to accelerate the feast, the rails of thought so greased that the outer world began to skew,
as in that moment on a train when the view becomes a wash of hues. There were clues. Phantom music in the air. At times, I’d look down at my body and think, “How’d you get there?”
One day, I de-napped to find myself entrapped within the tangled logic of a subway map. All day, I’d refrain, I’d double-track. I’d talk to myself and myself talked back.
Was it you? That tick I felt within the trick of thought? That wick that curled itself around me, not exploding, just making a constant tick-tick-tick that finally convinced me
that I was sick, that there was a cascade of toxins in the air, that there was something queer about the neighbor’s stare, that charade of signals everywhere,
an air raid in the brain, something in me left unpaid, a cosmic debt in arrears. Some nights, I’d hear the voices of my parents coming near, like waves that overlapped—
she’d slap him, he’d slap her back—their rage a single note that climbed its staff for years, my siblings and I in the closet with our fingers in our ears, though still I heard one night
the knife drawer heaved back, as if they really might slice each other or the house in half, and then my thoughts unweaved and I began to laugh. And it is funny, isn’t it,
the way that which starts as confession ends in blame, this constant search for the marionettist of your brain, the ghost who stole the controls to your soul.
The truth is: we embrace the past that keeps us whole. Again, I feel that treble in the skin, something at the edge of sight but closing in, the world a picture that won’t hang on the wall
quite right. Again, the double agent of the heart tries to take the past apart, but now I sense that the investigation is the crime, that it may be time to give up on this which-is-which,
this who-is-who, this endless voodoo in which the self I am keeps evading the curses of the self I mean to be, or to admit at least that the lyric cracks its voice trying to sing what’s ugly into praise,
and this language is the jeweler’s bluff, a diamond that scuffs between the teeth, a perfume misting foul air. Admit, admit, that what you craved was sex those days, and after a one-night tryst,
you became convinced you’d contracted aids. Say it plain: you thought you’d passed the disease on to your wife. In longhand, you wrote statistics across the page, Googled infection rates,
a one-in-a-million chance the battalion of hotline workers liked to say, but they couldn’t smudge that chance away. And did you let this madness in to build a drama around your sin,
to become valedictorian of the damned, to turn from lion into lamb, as the murderer longs to be the murdered one, and the king to swap places with the fool, the self you thought
you were so undone that you could only blame it on a coup, on a malignant growth, or on you, my patsy, my herring, my phantom non grata, my ghoul, you who I insist must exist, because, if not,
who else was it that could have been so cruel?
submitted by PuzzleheadedMajor847 to Poetry [link] [comments]
2021.10.18 21:31 lgats Honey IT INC. Sleep Care Lamp Z-1000 (2AY5A-Z-1000)
2021.10.18 21:31 MRWood204 What are the new achievements going to be besides the escape with the new survivor one?
2021.10.18 21:31 Marlab20 Outdoor and sidewalk dining
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2021.10.18 21:31 arabblacktrick69 Hoeless🤨
|submitted by arabblacktrick69 to funny [link] [comments]|